


Movie Date

by Tarlan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsheplets, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sunday on Atlantis, and Rodney has nothing to do except contemplate a day of self-pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movie Date

**Author's Note:**

> Written for:  
>  **mmom** 2012 Day 14  
>  **mcsheplets** prompt #122 Movie Night  
>  **ancientctybingo** prompt #11 Wormhole X-Treme!

Everyone on Atlantis knew about the link between O'Neill and some guy who had latent memories of everything O'Neill had experienced over the years--like a waking dream. The guy decided to write it all down, becoming a creative consultant when some studio executive saw his _stories_ , and a new science fiction TV series was born: _Wormhole X-treme_.

Realizing the power of the media, especially the entertainment industry, the top brass decided to keep the show on the air for as long as people would watch it. They figured that it was a way of slowly introducing the concept of the Stargates, aliens, gods and monsters before the inevitable day when all would be disclosed.

They had come close to full disclosure several times over the years: the attack by Anubis, the Ori, and most recently, the Wraith.

When the Wraith arrived in their super-hive, ready to start culling the world, the planet was saved only by the arrival of Atlantis--with the help of Rodney and the team, obviously. With a battle raging right over head, Rodney thought that the inevitable day of disclosure had finally come; except the IOA managed to hush it all up before Rodney could even start to finalize his plans for making his research known to the whole world, instead of to just a select few who were owned by the military and governments involved in the Stargate program.

Not even the not-so-soft landing of Atlantis onto the Pacific Ocean had caused a wave--literally and metaphorically--as Radek had engaged the shield that stopped a tsunami from forming. Disgruntled, he had returned to his laboratory after leaving the balcony, having seen enough of San Francisco harbor. With his plans for winning the Nobel Prize scuppered for yet another year, Rodney hadn't been so careful with his word selection, and by the end of that first week on Earth, he and Jennifer were no longer together. It was her words that stunned him, though.

"I'm sorry, Rodney, but you're never going to change."

He had tried to be nicer to people but, eventually, they always did something monumentally stupid and he took them to task for it. He couldn't help it. He could understand ignorance, which was why he tolerated some people more than others, but not stupidity. Stupidity got people killed. Stupidity had cost him one of his best friends.

Having a Carson clone did not negate the fact that the original had died due to the stupidity of others. Rodney had given all of his staff--and the military--strict orders not to touch anything without a full examination of the Ancient database first, having learned of the danger the hard way when he almost ascended after touching an Ancient Ascension machine. Instead, two of them had thought they knew better than him, and people had died because of it.

Carson had died.

So here he was alone again, contemplating a life of solitude with only his right hand and possibly the occasional one night stand to alleviate the strong sexual urges that were quite natural for a man of his brilliance. He lay back on his bed and studied his hand from the wide palm to the blunt but agile fingers. In his bedside drawer, next to his coconut-scented sun block cream, Rodney had a tub of lubricant that he had also made especially for his own needs--hypoallergenic, waterproof, and non-reactive with latex for the few times when he liked to experiment with finding his own prostate during a particularly heavy masturbation session.

Despite Jennifer being a doctor, he hadn't quite worked his way up to asking her to play with his prostate while they had sex. There was something just a little too clinical about it when he thought of her and latex gloves. Even the thought of it killed the mood, so he pushed thoughts of Jennifer out of his head.

It was _Sunday_ ; a day that he viewed with mixed feelings since the death of the original Carson, but Woolsey had given strict orders to bar him from the labs and any other work area for the next 24 hours, except in an emergency. Most had taken advantage of the chance to head into San Francisco, leaving only a skeleton crew in charge of the dozens of scientists who had flocked to the city as soon as the IOA gave the word. So there was no way Rodney was leaving the city today, not with all the _stupid_ running around his beloved city.

Instead he was stuck here on his own, locked out of his research lab, with nothing to do except contemplate 24 hours of self-loving, and possibly a small Doctor Who marathon.

Just as he was about to strip down, his door chimed.

"Open."

"Hey Rodney!"

"Sheppard! What are you doing here?" John raised an eyebrow. "I...eh. I thought you were taking Ronon into San Francisco," Rodney added quickly.

"Nah! He's meeting up with Teal'c."

"And Teyla?"

John shrugged. "She and Keller... baby clothes shopping?"

Rodney shuddered at the very thought. He spent as little time as humanly possible in clothes stores, grabbing the first thing close to his size off the rack no matter the style or color, though it occurred to him that he could take a leaf out of the John Sheppard Book of Clothes Shopping and just buy everything in black.

"So... How can I help you?"

"Movie night... except not. They're showing the new movie in the mess now. Thought you might like to come along."

Rodney narrowed his eyes warily. "What new movie?"

"Wormhole X-treme: Gate to Infinity."

"They made a movie? I thought it was canceled?"

John scratched his head. "Yeah. Me too."

"And which one of O'Neill's little adventures is this one based on?"

"Going back in time to steal a ZPM." John smirked. "You're in it."

Rodney perked up at that. "I am?"

Eagerly, Rodney pushed off the bed and shoved his feet into his trainers, lacing them quickly. "Lead on!"

***

The movie was abysmal. The actor portraying someone who was supposed to be based on an alternate version of him--Doctor Ingram--was handsome enough but a complete jerk, right down to his Spiderman t-shirt. Everyone knew Rodney preferred Batman, though he'd also settle for Mr. Fantastic.

And what was wrong with calling them Gateships, anyway? They were ships that went through the 'Gate. As they walked back towards Rodney's quarters, he wondered how much of that alternate universe was based on the truth, with Sam Carter--or rather Major Stacy Monroe--as some timid librarian while he was the chief scientist at the SGC.

Still, it was the first time they had used the mess to show a movie, and it had worked out really well, even if the chairs had been far less comfortable than the ones they used in the much smaller room a few doors down. The windows had blacked out on command, the screen was double the size and practically everyone who wasn't on duty had attended--including all of the new scientists and marines. At least John had managed to pull rank and reserve them some of the slightly more comfortable seats with a clear view of the screen. He had a feeling he would have been complaining far more about his back if he'd also had a numb ass too.

John hovered when they reached Rodney's quarters, looking a little uncomfortable. "So. What are you planning to do for the rest of the day?"

"Um." Rodney could hardly mention he had planned a long and pleasant session with the company of his right hand and a tub of lube--except, from the way John's eyebrows had crawled up into his hair, with even the tips of his ears going red, Rodney had a feeling he might have just said that out loud.

"TMI, Rodney."

Oh god. He had definitely said that out loud, but John looked more flustered than embarrassed, with his eyes flicking down to Rodney's groin and his tongue sliding across his lips.

"Want to join me?" Rodney blinked hard, wondering when he had developed a death wish, and he flinched when John raised a hand only to rub the back of his neck.

Thankfully, John didn't notice. Instead, he gave a one shoulder shrug, and Rodney knew he had frozen in shock at the very thought of John actually saying yes. Deciding that actions were far more appropriate to words on this occasion, he stepped into his quarters and heard John follow. He waited until the door had closed behind them, and pounced, shoving John up against the closed door and kissing him hard, giving him everything he'd got in the hope that he wasn't being as monumentally stupid as his minions in touching something without considering the consequences.

He didn't get a chance to pull back because John's arms wrapped around him, giving back as good as he got from Rodney. By the time they reached the bed, half of their clothing was gone along with all of Rodney's doubts, and within five minutes, he was naked on the bed, ass in the air and head squashed into the pillow as a latex and lube covered cock pushed deep inside him, finding his prostate on every forward thrust, and sending exquisite sensations crackling along his spine. Better than any latex covered finger. John's hand--wrapped around Rodney's hard cock--performed its own magic, helped by the way Rodney's body rocked forward with each glorious thrust from behind, and all too soon he felt his impending orgasm, his mind wiping out as his climax washed over him.

The sound of a used condom dropping into the otherwise empty waste basket by his bed had him peeling open one eye, and he smiled at John, gaining an equally dopey grin in response. Rodney also quickly learned the benefit of having a military guy for a lover, amazed at how fast John changed the semen-damp sheets. Moments later, he was tucked up against John, head on John's hairy chest before pushing aside the dog tags in irritation. Last thing he wanted was dog tags imprinted on his cheek like some property stamp for when he awoke later.

"So. You want to see another movie next Sunday?" John asked quietly.

"I'd rather fu...," he replied with a jaw-cracking yawn.

John tightened his hold. "It's a date then."

END


End file.
